Royally Charmed
by prep
Summary: A DHr fic set in 17th Century France. And yet they never leave Hogwarts. Mishaps upon mishaps ensue, and several dabs of fluff too. A story of a young man's enlightenment and how the path he chooses doesn't necessarily have to be the one he was told.
1. More Than Your Typical, Everyday Magic

**A/N: **There will be _some_ reference to HBP in this chapter, but it certainly will not be a supreme basis (these do not apply: Draco in the train, death threats, Dumbledore dying, Horcruxes, fleeing Deatheaters Draco and Snape, etc.). Probably just the fact that Slughorn's a teacher and Snape's the DADA instructor. Oh and the whole Draco's-disappearing-over-and-over-again in the sixth book? Well I have an answer for that as well.g

**Disclaimer:** Over and over again, thank you JK. I am not robbing you of your IPRs. Oh and I disclaim all parts with asterisks (). They're exactly from HBP, ergo, not mine completely.

**_Chapter One: More Than Your Typical, Everyday Magic_**

The Hogwarts Library had always been a quiet place even more so as it was nighttime, but as of the moment, there were two people arguing in unrestrained voices right in the place where there were study tables for the use of the students.

"Haven't you seen them woman?!" a gruff male voice shouted. Argus Filch was presently was holding up an oil lamp on his right fist and clutching a pair of scary-looking cuffs on his left, wagging it at the person in front of him.

"For the last time, Argus, no I have not! I even doubt that you're troublemakers have even been in my library!" screeched an irritated Madam Pince. She had been rudely awaken by an insistent rapping on her door and had been forced to follow an ill-tempered Filch to the place she worked in when it was day.

"But I saw them running! I saw them get in the right entrance! And I believe they were even being chased by a couple of prefects!" the adamant caretaker hissed back. "Those little rats, _somehow_, got into my office. And they _took_ something!" he added through gritted teeth.

"Are you positive with that?" asked a fed up librarian. She had just noticed that she still had a hairnet on and she quickly took it off, pocketing it. "You know Filch, I'm getting tired of your little chases with these children. You're going off your head thinking they that _are_ out to get you, you know."

"I've always been right to suspect! And even so, I saw that a drawer was opened." he retaliated then mumbled something under his breath.

The bleary-eyed librarian took of her spectacles and wiped them on her night robe before answering back.

"Well then, what could they possibly be looking for? A bag of Dungbombs? Or perhaps a flying Whizbee?" she asked satirically and put a hand on her hip.

"I don't bloody well know, do I?" he answered angrily, the chain on his cuffs clinking.

"Why don't you ask those prefects you saw running after them, then?" Madam Pince offered helpfully.

"Haven't found them either." he said crossly and then mumbled a choice few curse words.

"But you say they entered here? In the study area?" the old lady asked, referring to the large room they were in now. The sore caretaker nodded.

"Then why don't you look for clues, you raging manticore you." she added, exasperated.

The man was suddenly struck by an idea and started ducking under the tables and chairs in search pf something.

"If those twits were smart enough, they could have left it somewhere here." Filch thought that whoever this pair of foolhardy children were, they would at least have the sense to chuck away evidence that would prove that they have indeed invaded the caretaker's office.

"Give it. You might burn yourself." Madam Pince offered to hold up the man's lamp as he groped through the floor. He handed it to her and proceeded to look at another table.

"Aha!" he exclaimed as he saw something on the floor beside a leg of a chair. Madam Pince too found something on a table which housed the chair. She picked it up and realized that it was a small silk pouch with gold tassels used to tie the case closed.

"It's just one of your damned books!" Filch rose from his crouched position and tossed a plum-colored, leather-bound tome onto the table in front on him and the librarian. The volume was thick but quite small and the edges and sides of its pages were glossed with gold. It somehow resembled a slight Catholic bible.

"This is not mine." Madam Pince said as she picked up the book and examined it. It lacked the reference number all her library books had on their bottom corners. At this, the caretaker brightened somewhat and took the book from the lady.

"So all this for a ruddy book then, eh?" he said, surveying the tome and noticing the unique embossed swirls on it. The librarian looked highly affronted at this remark and clucked her tongue.

"I think, this came with that." she handed him the cloth bag she had spotted and placed the oil lamp on the wooden table.

"I can't seem to remember who I confiscated this from…" Argus mused loudly, his brow furrowing.

"You've impounded so many of these so-called dangerous things, you really will have a hard time remembering." the sleepy librarian said inaudibly.

There was a sudden noise that cut into the conversation of the two. They hurried the source of the disturbance (it was at a far table, right in front of a tall book case which enveloped the entire study area. As they approached, Madam Pince raised the lamp she was holding and both her and Filch saw two small figures moving.

There were two boys (first or second years perhaps, judging from their undersized stature and childish face) who were wide-eyed and under a large round table. One of them, a brunette boy, was sprawled on the ground, his stomach to the floor and the other boy had a loose grip on the lying boy's ankle. Apparently, the boy with the brown hair (we will come to know him later as Aaron) had wanted to sneak out of the are quietly as he realized that the other to people inside it were quite occupied with something. However, his blond friend (also as you'll find out later, this is Derek) was not too sure and did not want the other boy to leave so as Aaron started to stand up, he gripped on the boy's leg to prevent him from going. This made the rising boy lose his balance and hit his head on the bottom side of the table they were under, hence the noise.

"Well, well, _well_. I see I have been right all along Madam Pince." Filch snickered, relishing that he had caught the two troublemakers. "Get up you nasty little things." he added and the two young boys stood warily.

"Argus, I'll leave you with them. It's late." the old librarian said. She was strict, yes, but rarely did she find herself being totally mean to the children. She pursed her lips, put down the caretaker's lantern on the table, and stalked away into the darkness.

"So will you two tell me _what_ you've been doing in my office at the dead of night or must I hang you by the ankles just to know?" the caretaker was seething, waving the odd book threateningly. Not only were the boys out of bounds (according to a nearby wall clock, it was away past ten), but also they had been able to get through his door and his cabinet, both of which were locked tight by muggle means of course (he's a Squib, remember?).

None of the boys answered, mainly because of fear. They were both eyeing the cuffs the old man was holding.

"So you prefer hanging then, eh? Excellent." he said with apparent delight.

"No! W-wait, sir!" cried a frantic Derek "Y-you can't punish us!" he said with a faint show of braveness.

"And why the hell not?" he laughed out his question.

"B-because you're not our head of h-house." Aaron answered him defiantly. He knew that he'd rather face the wrath of Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall than lose blood oxygen from this scary old coot.

"Gryffindor then?" he inquired rudely, noting that they had on over their jimjams their cloaks which had the red and gold colors on its seal.

"Y-yes, sir." replied a still fearful Derek.

"Oh alright, alright! Get it over with. Let' go. And don't even think about running away." he said impatiently, grabbing them by their sleeves and dragging them along as he made his way out of the dark library and to the office of professor McGonagall, still gripping on the book with his free hand (he had latched the cuffs onto the belt he always wore)

He knocked firmly on the birch door of Minerva's quarters and within a few minutes, the witch herself opened the door and engaged this late visitor.

"Yes? What is it Argus? It's late." she had on a burgundy robe and wore the same expression of tartness in her face.

"Professor, these two of yours, they snuck into my office and stole this from my cabinet." he said all this very quick, his patience running out.

"Trespassing _and_ theft? What in heavens is happening to children today!" she fumed, scrutinizing the young Gryffindors.

"Yes, professor. See, here. That's what they took. Haven't asked why they wanted it though." said Filch happily, as he handed the white bag and the purple book to the woman. She froze as her eyes skimmed the front and as she flipped it open she bit her lip in distress.

"You boys got this on purpose?" she asked Aaron and Derek sharply.

They figured it was best to tell the truth for lying would only heighten the severity of their punishment.

"N-no, Professor McGonagall. W-we, we were dared by this seventh year and-and…" Derek started rubbing on his yellow hair, were he had bumped his head earlier.

"A-and, he told us that-that there was this sort of ini-initiation to being a Gryffindor." Aaron added, staring at the ground.

"You're first year then?" Filch cut in, realizing this only now. Both boys nodded but did not look at the old man.

"Argus, you may go now. I will deal with them. Thank you for bringing them to me." Minerva said, looking at the caretaker as if daring him to disagree.

"But, but professor! The were _stealing_ in _my_ office!" he trumpeted loudly, his hopes of torture fading.

"That would be all Mr. Filch." the red-haired superior said with a note of finality.

The extremely frustrated caretaker stomped off, shaking his head in aggravation, his oil lamp swinging dangerously. He was muttering obscenities under his breath as stalked back towards his room.

"In you get." Minerva called out to the boys, holding her door open. The unsteadily walked in and were asked to sit on either chairs in front of the professor's wide table. They noticed that as this was their head's office, her quarters was probably beyond the other door they spotted on the other side of the room.

"You two. Spellings, White, who was this boy?" she asked pointedly to Aaron and Derek, donning her glasses and sitting on the chair against the table.

"Professor?" Aaron asked, uncomprehendingly. The other boy hit him and mumbled: "She meant the idiot who got us here in the first place!"

"Mr. White is quite right, Mr. Spellings. Who is this seventh-year? He is a Gryffindor, I presume?" she ignored Derek's choice of words.

"Er, Cormac. Cormac McLaggen, professor." said a nervous Aaron. "H-he said that we were the only Gryffindor boys who haven't proved that we deserved to be there." he added, playing with his thumbs.

"Proven what, exactly?" she asked briskly, raising an eyebrow.

"Professor, he said that all first-year Gryffindors had to, had to show that they were brave and all," Derek answered while chewing on his lip.

"So you went off and broke into Mr. Filch's private quarters?" she asked incredulously.

"Or else we'd get bunked off to Slytherin next year he said!" added an anxious Aaron, finally looking at the professor.

"I will deal with him in the morning," the older breathed out an impatient breath "So you don't know what this book does then? You got it out without thinking?" she asked the youngsters, fixing her glasses.

"We-we just got it for proof, professor. So we'd be, well, we'd still be Gryffindors." answered a still agitated Derek.

"Rubbish, really. Just so you'd know, none of what McLaggen has told you is true. But I must say, what you have committed is a very serious offense. I am not suspending nor expelling you, however, for it was not _entirely_ your faults. So, deten-" she was about to settle the boys' punishment when Aaron cut in.

"Professor!" he said frantically.

"What is it Spellings? Do not interrupt me! You are already in a big amount of trouble. Don't let me dock you with any more punishments!" she said irritated.

"Professor McGonagall, see, there's something you should know…" Aaron said, looking at his companion. He too looked at the woman apprehensively.

"Well, what is it?" she asked firmly.

"Um, we, er. We saw something. And-and we think it has something to do with that book…" Derek trailed on and relayed what both him and his friend had witnessed that night.

And for your benefit, lovely readers, here's a full author's view account :)

_Earlier that night_

Harry drew closer to Hermione and said, "Let's get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Do you really think I'd stoop that low?"

Harry looked at her shrewdly. "Hermione, if you can ask out McLaggen –"

"There's a difference." said Hermione with dignity. "I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."

"Good," said Harry fervently. "Because he'll just fall apart again, and we'll lose the next match –"

"Quidditch!" said Hermione angrily. "Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn't asked me one single question about myself, no, I've just been treated to 'A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen' nonstop ever since – oh no, here he comes!"

She moved so fast it was as though she had Disapperated; one moment she was there, the next, she had squeezed between two guffawing witches and vanished.

The brunette quickly reached the doors of Professor Slughorn's room and quickly stepped out amidst the raucous and noise that was the Slug Club's Christmas party. She had hurriedly left Harry and his date Luna Lovegood as she had spotted _her_ unfortunate date in the person of one Cormac McLaggen. She slipped out unheard of and shut the door, muffling the music made by the popular wizard band The Weird Sisters.

For the specific occasion, Hermione had on a simple lilac cocktail dress, a pair of pearl earrings and had her hair undone though she had it potioned to fall in smooth waves down to her shoulders. She put on the Hogwarts cloak she was holding (Parvati had offered her a purple coat lined with faux fur as she saw the brunette dressing up. Hermione declined with the displeasure of the other girl. She mumbled that she'd ruined her look using the horrid black uniform) for it was significantly cooler outside the festive room. As she had arrived earlier at Professor Slughorn's office for the party (with that bull Cormac, she thought roughly), she looked presentable and lovely even but now her hair was in disarray and her silk pleated skirt was wrinkled in several places as she tried in vain to flee from her obnoxious date.

_I should have went with Zacharias, _she thought as she cast her wand on herself, flattening the creases on her sleeveless dress and cleaning her white flats (at her haste in getting out, a burly fifth-year Ravenclaw had stepped on them leaving a sole print). She did this noiselessly as she had mastered this particular spell nonverbally already.

She checked her watch and it was nearly 8:30. The library had been closed for more than an hour ago, so she had no choice but to saunter back to the common room and get to bed. She shivered at the thought that she might _again_ walk in on one of Ron and Lavender's little 'sessions'. She had always thought of Ron as brother, this was also true for Harry. But things suddenly changed in their sixth year as the gangly red-head suddenly grew more, well, weird. Ginny had told her over the summer about his brother's feelings towards Hermione. The youngest Weasley had relayed in secret that he had spotted answering one of those silly little 'love tests' in one of Fleur's magazines. Ginny had discovered that Ron's 'girl you would want to get married with?' was in fact that smart bushy-haired Hermione Granger, like he scrawled on the blank beside the question. He had forgotten to wipe the answer sheet clean and Ginny had come across it moments later.

Hermione's reaction to this was to laugh. Knowing that her best friend had affections for her made her feel like a girl, and yet, she could not find herself returning the boy's liking for her.

"_Not even a little?" Ginny jibed._

"_No. I'm sure of that, thanks." she answered chuckling a bit. Me and Ron? Honestly, we'd spend more time apart than together._

But as the year progressed, she grew aware of Ron's little stutters and mild insinuations and she felt quite uncomfortable. She had planned to tell him off gently, someday when he would finally have cracked. She was even nice to him without him knowing so he'd be happy (she was the one responsible for Lavender's sudden care for the boy). But when they had started going out, she felt a sense of waste. She felt she should have at least tried to go out with him but she felt guilty thinking this for she did not feel any of those butterflies her mother used to say when she was with Ron. Her confusion led her to do things she normally would not do and it made her look like 'a jealous bint' as Ginny would say. But her aversion to both Ron and Lavender was not brought about by envy towards the girl, but envy towards what they had. She mused sometimes on what could it be with a boy she liked (the short fling she had with Viktor Krum was only one-sided). As of the moment, she could honestly say that there books obscured her from the vast male population in Hogwarts and she was taught early on that those types or romances would only happen when she is in the real world out there.

Hermione did not realize that she had mulled over these sentiments for quite a while and she had been standing in front of the door, starring into the wall in front of her. She shook her head and marched back to the Gryffindor Common, where thankfully she had not seen any sign of any people conjoined by the lip. She waved a good night to a concentrated Neville (he was dissolved in a book entitled _Plants You'd Have to Think Twice for Before Touching_) and entered her room. It was deserted and she was thankful for that, for she need not want to tell anyone where she had been and what she has been through. She took off her cloak got a couple of things and went over to the Prefect's bathroom for a well-deserved soaking.

- - -

"Wand at ready Draco. Three, two, _Legilimens!_

Draco's mind had barely been probed in when he shouted firmly. "_Expelliarmus_!"

The man's spell had broke as his wand was whisked away by the boy in front of him. The blond caught it deftly and handed it back to the older man. He took it and gave Draco a rare shadow of a smile.

"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy." the dark-haired man say, taking back his wand.

'Thank you Professor." Draco had replied flinching at the name he was called.

Severus Snape was rarely impressed, and he could say that right now, he was thoroughly pleased that the boy had done very well only on his second night of Occlumency. He looked at the boy in front of him with a feeling of hope surging slightly in his veins. He had been shocked when the mother of the said boy had appeared at his doorstep in Spinner's End alone, asking Severus for the greatest thing she could wish for. He knew Narcissa Malfoy even before, even when she was still a Black and was a very kind but distant young girl. She was a year ahead of him but was too a Slytherin. There was one time during there her year in Hogwarts wherein he had overheard her crying to one of her friends that she had been fixed to marry one Lucius Malfoy, a student who had graduated about four years ago. He heard that it was against her will and she was not one to follow the so-called Dark Path. He snorted at this at that time for he was blind then, but now he respected her for that. Recently, he too had discovered that this wife of a Malfoy has just been living a forced life. Also, as he inquired later on, Dumbledore had said that she was truly on their side.

She had told him that as Lucius had been jailed, she had a small _shot_. A shot that could mean the life of her beloved son. As only a handful of people know, Lucius had a cast an ancient spell on his heir and now that he had been locked away in Azkaban, it had no effect on Draco anymore whatsoever, causing it to break.

"_I bet the Dementors had an effect on Lucius, and somehow, Draco is free." Narcissa explained quietly to a concerned Snape. _

"_What do you mean by that Narcissa?" he asked warily._

"_You see there's this old spell, it was cast upon Draco as soon as he was born." she paused taking a shaky breath then continued "It, it bound his soul to Lucius, meaning-meaning all his life, he had just been an reflection of my husband. Do you understand me?" she asked looking at the black-haired man with tears in her eyes._

"_You mean, all his life, Lucius had his son under a spell?" he replied, his eyes widening at the piece of information._

"_Yes, but that's not everything. This spell, you see, it blinds the child. It blinds his reason and conscience, leaving him without any choice but to do exactly what his father wishes." the blonde wiped the tears straining to fall from her eyes "Don't you see? The Draco Malfoy most everyone knows and detests, is not entirely who he is." she finished with new sobs._

"_Like living his whole life under the Imperius, you mean?" Snape inquired._

"_Quite, but not entirely. It's quite hard to put it into words, Severus. Think of it," she bit her lip looking around Snape's sitting room as if for inspiration "Think of it like Draco's choices have been controlled. Before, his perceptions and his dreams were guarded. But ever since he had been rid of the terrible curse, he saw things differently. Sure, you'd still see he had his temper and some of his less admirable traits, but now," she paused and actually smiled "He has a choice. Unlike before when he had even the slightest inclination to good, the demons in his mind would whisper to do otherwise. Think of it that way, my friend." she finished, her sadness had ebbed away slightly._

"_Why are you telling me this? You-" he was confused as to why this minion of Lucius Malfoy was here._

"_Because I know you can help him. Severus, this is not a trick. I am on your side. And yes, I know that you are indeed a spy. I admire your courage, and I hope that braveness would too help a friend. Please Severus, please." she implored as she got out of her seat and kneeled in front of the man._

_Severus was shocked at this gesture and even more surprised that she knew of his double job. But he did not ask why. He merely took her hands and lifted her onto her feet. There were tears falling from her blue eyes again._

"_Lucius-, Lucius might break out of Azkaban, I've been hearing sorts from their kind. And I know if that happens, I may lose my son, just like I had lost my life." she was pleading this time, and was shaking. "Trust me Severus. I am willing to do anything if you will help me. Please." she finished, her head dropping as she sobbed quietly._

_He doubted only a little. Only a very good actress could pull this off. He did the only thing he could think of as his Dumbledore's faith to him would be a far great risk if ever this were a hoax. He conjured a small Sneakoscope with his wand and placed it on his palm. It did not even budge._

"Professor? Are we done tonight?" Snape's thoughts had been disturbed by the young man in front of him.

"Yes Draco, you may leave early tonight." he replied as he checked the wall clock on the wall of his office. It read 8:15.

"Thank you sir," Draco looked at him briefly and pocketed his wand, getting ready to leave his head of house's office "For, for everything." he added hastily and rapidly stepped out of the room, shutting the door quietly.

He indulged himself at the luxury of a smile, a pastime he very rarely did. He was pleased with the boy's progress and hoped that as he had promised Narcissa Malfoy, his son would join the side of the light. He again recalled that fateful night:

"_So you will help me Severus?" Narcissa asked tentatively, eyeing the Sneakoscope with relief._

"_Of course Narcissa. I'm sorry I-" he was about to apologize about suspecting but the blonde simply raised a hand._

"_No need Severus, you had every right. With me barging in on you like this…" she was polite enough to blush. _

"_So tell me, what is it exactly that you want for your son?" he asked her, motioning for her to sit down on the couch as he himself settled for a stool in front of her._

"_Would it be too much to ask to ask for the best?" she said, jibing slightly "Oh, I don't know. I was rather interested in what you had to say. You are after all his head of house, and I know you've been wanting also to save him from his fate." she added, her eyes sparkling with hope. He wanted to ask her how he knew this but he again pushed it out of his mind._

"_You are right, again. I wanted to give the child a chance but I felt it was in vain." he trailed on "You ask on my views about this?" he asked, eying the woman._

"_Well you are the only one who was able to fully turn away from You-Know-Who. And I figured, you'd help Draco and protect him as he joins- as he joins that." she pointed a trembling finger to Snape's arm as it had been exposed slightly. She way staring at the ugly mark he bore._

"_You mean you want him to join us? But you also want him to join the Light side?" he asked skeptically._

"_It's the only way. I thought about it over and over, nearly every day since the boy was born. He has to at least show face that he is still loyal to the Dark Lord. If he doesn't he'd be k-killed." she whimpered the last word "But I don't want him to be involved with the Dark Arts. I want him to be on the right side, that of Dumbledore's." she finished as told him of her minor motives._

"_But what you want- I say, that is very risky. He-" he rationed with the lady_

"_He'd die if he showed loyalty to either side! All I need now is a chance to for him to live, Severus. A fighting chance. On where he would not be a pawn, nor would he be sacrificed." as she spoke, she too was in disbelief at what she was saying. "That's why I came to you. You're the only one I can trust." she cracked a reassuring smile._

"_That's where you are wrong Narcissa. I believe if you put your trust in me, you have put your trust in Albus Dumbledore." he replied returning a small smile._

"_I have talked to him. And like me, he believes that you can help me. Don't you see where I'm driving at?" she was slightly impatient but her voice was gentle._

_He thought about what the woman had said and perused over it for a moment. He thought about the blonde saying something about showing a side of evil but being truly good… And then it hit him._

"_You want him to be me? You want him to be a **spy**?" _

_The woman merely nodded and smiled._

Draco had made his way out of the corridor of his superior's office and turned to the right to another hallway. All the teacher's offices and quarters were on this floor, and he took note of the one's belonging to that of Flitwick and McGonagall as he passed it. He made his way to another path and stopped slightly as he neared Slughorn's office. He spotted a girl in lilac cursing to herself as she made her way out of the door.

_Bloody, not her, _he thought silently and he pressed himself onto a wall, hidden from the girl's view. That meddling Hermione Granger did not know what hit her when she had tried to be nice to Draco Malfoy. He figured that she was only trying to help when she acted civilly during this year's prefect meetings. And that it was only the fact that the Professors and even the Sorting Hat were pushing for inter-house unity. But even so, it irked Draco. He was not used at any of the teachers new gazes at him as if he was made of delicate porcelain and the treatment of those who 'looked beyond the past' as they would say. But at the list of people who looked at him in a new light, this certain brunette seemed to top it hands down and it annoyed him. It was probably that inner Gryffindor optimism kicking in, he said to himself.

_What did she know, that little mud-muggleborn, _he mused silently as he watched the girl cast her wand on herself, seeing the wrinkles on her dress and the dirt on her shoes disappear.

He thought she was done but was taken aback when she just stood there, her eyes on the wall across her. He wondered what she was looking at but came to realize that she was just lost in thought, judging from her eyes. As she snapped out of her dazed she smiled at herself and made her way to the left. After she was out of sight, he emerged out of the shadows and made his way back to the Slytherin common room his thoughts ranging from his next lesson on espionage to the bright-faced Hermione.

"Crimson and clover" he muttered the password to the portrait and it moved aside to let him in.

He passed the armchairs and walked directly to his room. It was quiet aside from the occasional snoring of two of its occupants. Crabbe and Goyle were fast asleep on their respective beds. Draco was used to them being knocked-out even as it was not that late at night. There were three unoccupied beds and he approached his which was on the farthest side nearest the windows. He lay on his bed, not bothering to even change. He was tired but tossed for several hours still not getting any sleep. Several hours later, Draco was still wide-eyed and was too tired to even sleep. He needed air and needed to think. He looked at the clock on his side table which read 9:42 and got off his bed. He rummaged quietly through his trunk, reached for his Nimbus and silently walked out of his room.

- - -

"You're reading again? Don't you ever do anything else?" said Parvati as she was on the foot of her own bed, packing for the Holidays.

Hermione on the other hand had already finished. She had stowed everything she needed right after she had finished with her bath as tomorrow she, Harry, Ron and Ginny were to spend their Christmas at the Burrow.

"Hm?" she answered engrossed in the book she had propped on her knee.

"Never mind." Parvati rolled her eyes and slammed her trunk closed "What's that this time?" she asked as Hermione who was now taking a short break from her reading and placed an elastic bookmark, marking where she had stopped.

The sixth year Gryffindors girl's room was currently occupied only by the two girls. Lavender was 'busy' and always came up at around 11:00 and the two other girls were presently at the mercy of an exasperated Madam Promfey (they had tried to perm their hairs curly for the Holidays with the aide of a Weasley's Wizard Whizbees but had failed to notice that it had an expiry date and it was way beyond that period) who was tending to their rapidly growing hairs.

"Pride and Prejudice." she replied smiling, rubbing her eyes. She had read this about a dozen times already but still she enjoyed returning to the world of the Bennetts.

"I've heard of that. Muggle section right?" remarked Parvati, apparently happy that she knew this.

"That's right. You've read it?" she asked, curious that the girl knew things beyond mirrors and beauty products.

"Oh, heavens no. Fell asleep trying to read it. Padma told me about it. One of her favorites actually." the doe-eyed girl replied, referring to her twin in Ravenclaw.

"I see. It's a nice story, Parvati. Romantic even." Hermione offered as she fluffed the pillow she had her head on.

"Ooh, romantic?" said a sparkly-eyed Parvati. Her bed was right beside Hermione's but she found it necessary to get off hers and settle on the other girl's bunk. "What's it about?" she asked as she sat on her knees.

Hermione had retold Jane Austen's classic to the girl in front of her and Parvati was looked really pleased with all the good parts of the novel. This story telling went on for about an hour and then Parvati started gushing about her rampant love life. The brunette listened to the animated black-haired girl until she realized something.

"This hotel in Burningham, it was divine! There's were I spotted Charles and Robert. Oh and I met Ivan too. Have I told you about the hotel's robes? I know it's silly but it was made of silk! How luxurious is that?" Parvati paused only to breathe but Hermione's eyes lit in remembering that:

"Crikey I left mine in the prefect's bathroom! Sorry Parvati, that bathrobe had my earrings in its pockets. I'll just go and grab it." she was mildly thankful for escaping the girl's babbles.

"Alright Hermione, it was so nice to sit and chat like that. We should do it more often!" the other girl exclaimed, hopping out of the brunette's bed and onto hers.

"Right." she replied, smiling and seized her school cloak and wand then went out of the room.

She made her way out of the dimly lit common room which was occupied only by a couple of sleepy looking fifth years playing Wizard's chess whom she advised to go to bed. They did so in silence. She walked quietly out and towards the bathroom. She went down one floor to the room she had left her robe in, surveyed the large expanse of bath area and spotted her white bathrobe. She checked for her earrings and found them safe inside a pocket. After getting her garment, she left and headed back to the Gryffindor tower. She was passing a large window when something caught her eye.

There was a faint blur that zipped across the floor length glass panes and Hermione had to press her face to see what the flying thing was. As it slowed, she noticed wide-eyed that it was a person on a broomstick and she assumed it was a boy for no self-respecting woman would leave her closet without a shirt on. She noted the tall built and blond hair even in the dark and she gasped. She hitched open the latch of the windows and pushed them open and walked out onto the balcony outside of it.

"Malfoy!" she shouted without heed. She was after all a prefect.

The boy faltered in his whizzing but only for a second. He continued to zip along the roofs of Hogwarts but did not fly away from the view of the girl.

"Malfoy get down from there! It's freezing!" she yelled and the boy finally stopped in midair. He flew towards her and stopped at the rails of the terrace.

Draco had been circling the entirety of the Hogwarts grounds without abandon. If there was one thing he knew he was good at it was at flying. Those years at the Quidditch field during matches had not been his best, for unknown to everyone, Draco Malfoy too had nerves that worked against him at the worst of times. Adding that to the fact that Harry Potter was a very able flier, the blond looked very mediocre indeed. But at his element for the past half hour without any scrutinizing eyes, Draco could not have cared less and he glided across the air magnificently. Until someone had shouted his name and he almost lost his grip from surprise. He didn't look at the source of the yelling but when the person shouted again, he stopped and looked at the person.

_You again?_ he thought mildly irate.

"What do you want Granger?" he didn't look angry, just a but disappointed that he had been caught.

"I said it's freezing. Here take my coat." she took off her black cloak and handed it the blue-lipped pale-faced boy without second thought.

"What?" asked a confused Draco. The girl could have easily told him off or even drag him back to Snape's office, but instead she was offering him warmth.

"Take it. You're shivering. And get off that silly thing!" Hermione reckoned and Draco followed her absently, jumping onto the veranda.

"Thanks." he took it as he realized that he was indeed, very cold. The cloak was too small for his broad shoulder but he draped it as well as he could. He was cold yes, but not stupid. But alas he thought he was indeed idiotic as he realized his wand had dropped from his pocket in one of his dives.

Hermione was quite taken aback for this Malfoy was quite, well, nice. She still did recall certain memories of the past years whenever she saw him but that minimized gradually as he seemed to have shed this face of his life. She was woken from her stupor as the blond had cursed loudly.

"Damn. It could be anywhere…" he said quietly, looking at the vast expanse of ground behind him still clutching the handle of his broom.

"What could be anywhere?" Hermione inquired, catching his words.

"My wand, it fell and- what's it to you?" he said a shade of himself appearing as he sneered a little.

Hermione almost retaliated but bit down instinct as she again remembered Professor McGonagall's words. She sighed and pursed her lips.

"Well, if you don't want my help, then fine. I was going to offer to help you but I think you'd- but you seem to know what to do." she was about to say: you'd search the grounds with your silly little stick, but reasoned that it would probably irk the boy.

_And why do I even bother watching my words?_ she asked herself. She shook her head and turned around about to go back into the corridor when:

"Hermione, wait." Draco said stepping closer. The girl was shocked, for one, she had heard the boy say her name for the first time in her entire stay in Hogwarts. Her brows were furrowed but she did not ask why he had called her that.

"What?" she asked politely. She figured the boy was trying to be civil and she appreciated it.

"Your, erm, cloak. Thanks." he shrugged off the black garment and gave it back to its owner.

Hermione felt like she was watching a weird adaptation of Sidney Sheldon's Mr. Hyde and Dr, Jekyll as the boy in front of him had talked to her. One moment he was this tolerable person who said thanks and next he was insufferable old Malfoy. He was a one man-show and the girl was baffled. She took her cloak back and clutched it, deciding to help Draco. She pulled out her wand to Summon the blond's lost one.

"_Accio_ Malfoy's wand!" she said suddenly as Draco was slightly surprised at the witch to his front. They both waited for a while until Draco said something.

"Your spell didn't work." he said as a matter of fact. The girl did not get what he was trying to convey and fumed.

"Well, I'm sorry if I'm too _incompetent_ for you Malfoy." she said acidly, regretting that she actually thought of giving a hand to the boy.

"No, no. It's not the way you think. It's just that. I prefer not to be called that anymore. So I guess that's why your Summoning charm didn't work." Draco said apprehensively "Sorry." he added as an afterthought.

"Oh." Hermione had the decency to turn quite pink.

"So it's Draco then?" she asked drawing out the name for the first time ever just like what the boy did earlier with her name. It felt awkward saying it aloud but the blond nodded.

"_Accio_ Draco's wand!" she shouted out and within second, a long stick was zooming from the dense garden and Hermione caught it with the hand she used to drape her cloak on. She handed it to Draco and the boy did something which made the girl wonder. He smiled. She found herself smiling back.

"Thanks Granger." he said and Hermione's smile fell a bit.

_I thought we were on first name terms? _she said to herself.

She had quite liked it when Draco had said a name. It was like hearing a dog meow. And it also meant that she had grown out of her young immature self that would have made her push the blond off the railings for being a git for all of these years. She was about to say: "Hey, what happened to Hermione?" when there was a sudden bark of shout from a room not very far from where they were. And then suddenly a pair of scuttling first years were seen by the two, running away from the source of the yell.

"Hey, those are Gryffindors!" Hermione exclaimed and followed the two quickly. As they turned to a corner, Argus Filch suddenly appeared into Draco's. The boy was rooted on the spot, uncomprehending.

"You, boy! Get those inane children! You're a prefect aren't you?" he shouted at Draco and was walking with a limp.

It took a moment for this to register but then he quickly jumped back into the corridor and ran after the boys. He was quick even though he was lugging along his broomstick and soon found the back of Hermione as she was now sprinting after the troublemakers.

"You two! Stop running!" she screeched at the two.

This only made them run faster and run down two flights of stairs. Draco caught up with the girl and were now side by side, making their way down the stairwell. Both have forgotten that they could have just jinxed the boys with an _Immobulus_ or a _Leg-Locker_ Curse but were to bent on catching the two to realize.

The agile boys dashed away without tiredness and opened a large door as the neared it. The two prefects followed them in the dark. They had simultaneously muttered _Lumos_ and had the advantage of sight. They spotted the two running to an alcove which turned out to be the sitting room of the library.

"They can't get away now. There's no other way out." Hermione commented as she recognized this area in the school library.

It was quite a roomy place but nonetheless, the two boys were cornered. The girl was about to discover the spot that the youngsters had hidden in when Draco suddenly stumbled on something. He cursed in surprise but crouched down to reach for the obstruction. He picked it up and found out that it was a small clothbag. It was bulged and had something quite heavy in it. Hermione was distracted by Draco's find and focused her attention to the thing.

"Looks like a book." she commented as the boy emptied the pouch on a nearby table.

"But why does it have a case though?" Draco inquired.

Both their lit wands were directed to the table now and the two feeble youngsters could have easily sneaked out at the time but were to scared to even breathe (that was an hyperbole, of course they were breathing).

"I don't think this is library property. Someone must have left it. It's a diary or something." Hermione picked the tome up and examined it. She held her wand over it and opened to the first page, hoping to see a name scrawled under. Instead, both prefects spotted some words in the middle of the first page. Draco looked closer and was able to read them.

"Bloi: I am bored. Give me adventure." he strung the words according to how they were spelled and Hermione took note that this was French and Draco had just said it wrong."

"It's Bloi: I am bored. Give me adventure," she corrected, squinting at the familiar loopy writing. "It's French for-" she was unable to finish what she was saying as quite abruptly, the book flew open right in the middle page and there was a sudden enormous white light that radiated out of the tome, as if Hermione had a piece of the sun on his palms. Before anyone could make a move or even a sound, the light shone even brighter causing the two wide-eyed first years to squint from where they were from. The could no longer see the two upperclassmen who were near the curious book and as the ray of white threatened to blind them, they shut their eyes and not long after, the light was completely gone, bringing back enveloping darkness to the once brightly lit room. The two boys, Aaron and Derek had there mouths hanging and as they heard the sound of a book falling closed, and nothing more.

- - -

"And they were gone professor! Just like that!" Derek had exclaimed energetically to a very shell-shocked Minerva. Her fears had been correct and she was currently clutching at the edge of her table.

"Yeah, yeah and then we heard the library door bang open. And after a while, that's when Madam Pince and Filch got into the room. They saw the book, and even touched it. But nothing happened!" Aaron added, also very much high at his tale.

"Of course nothing happened! Why If I get my hands on- White! Spellings! Get back to your dormitories, I will deal with you tomorrow. That would be all for tonight." she got up and said this in a strained sort of voice.

"But Professor McGonagall, the Hogwarts Express it comes in the morning and-" Derek started to say.

"Goodness, I forgot all about that. Just go to bed and I will deal with the two of you when you get back." she said this very pointedly and the boys jumped out of their seats and walked of the office.

Minerva shut the door as the left but did not herself go back to bed. She picked up the two objects lying on her table and walked the short distance to her fireplace. The lady took out her wand and set a cackling fire onto the grate, the flames as if they had been there for more than it was. There was a small ceramic pot sitting on a shelf of wood right above the hearth. She removed the lid, took a bit of what was inside and flung the contents of her hand violently into the fire. The red flames turned emerald the old witch ducked her head on the now heatless fire and shouted.

"Albus Dumbledore! Wake up you wretched old coot!" her voice rang through the old man's own fireplace. She had choice words for the great wizard, driven by anger and exasperation. Within moments the bearded man appeared from his quarters and into the view of Minerva's floating head.

"Pleasant night, isn't it?" Dumbledore tittered, finding humor at this sudden apparition. He had not felt distressed for if the news this woman had for him was grave, she would have done it in a more polite and less menacing way.

"You have me awake. It's best to step in now, Minerva." he said and the lady stepped out of the grate and into the study of Hogwart's headmaster, still looking very much aggravated. She held up the book in one hand and fisted its bag on the other.

"Your book! I believe you have gotten your silly wish again!" she shouted flapping about and thrusting it into the man's hands.

"Why, I haven't seen this for years!" he held the tome up to the light and was smiling. This only infuriated the lady in front of him even more.

"Albus! It's taken in two students this time! _Two!_" she screeched heatedly.

"Minerva please. Calm down. You've already woken up Fawkes." Dumbledore remarked and offered the witch a chair.

"No! We don't have time!" she said but still she sat. Her rage ebbed away slightly and the red blotches on her cheeks faded as well.

"Who were they? Are they children?" he inquired lightly, assessing the situation.

"No. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore, we need to get them out." she said breathing deeply.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that as of the moment. I have told you very well of the effects if one does not finish it." he sighed placing the book on his desk. Suddenly, Minerva noticed that he was not bothered. In fact, he had that spark in his eyes that.

"What are you thinking about Albus?" she asked warily. She knew all to well the look in the old man's eyes.

"Will you order for my castration if I told you I think this is a wonderful thing to happen?" he eyed his one of his oldest and dearest friends.

"I believe you know me all to well Albus." she replied with a twinge of annoyance of the man's lack of seriousness at the matter.

"Well Minerva, as I have told you at the start of this term, there is young man that I intend to help this year." he said smiling as looked at the mauve book in front of him.

"Let's just say that one of your Gryffindors was kind enough to assist me."

**a/n: ** tell me what you think :)


	2. Fancy A Nightcap?

**Disclaimer:** Haven't got the patience to write a book, much less six. Thanks for making it easier for me JK.

**Summary:** This is basically what you get when there's stuff to do and the only person you can count is a royal pain in the derriere. Essentially, the spotlight's on two very different yet very alike people and both can't help but be driven up the wall with each other.

**A/N:** Well, it's not exactly AU since in the end, it's going to be pretty normal (as normal as it gets, I guess). It's the present but it's in the past; it's a plausible thing to happen in the HP world. Me needs a beta-reader. Just if yer interested, kiddies :)

**_Chapter Two: Fancy A Nightcap?_**

There were three things which caused a rather disgruntled Hermione Granger to unwillingly rouse from her slumber: first was the feeling that her bed had been transfigured to large lumpy sack of quaffle-sized potatoes; secondly, there was this awful yapping sound near her left ear that seemed to grow louder as she drifted into consciousness; and third (this promptly sent her bolting out of the her bed with an unladylike yelp), was that she was unceremoniously doused with winter-tinged water.

"Took you long enough," muttered someone to her right as she proceeded to walk out of sight with a wooden bucket tucked under her arm.

Hermione was disoriented and needless to say, sopping wet against the chill December wind.

"You're a mess, you know that?" said that yapping thing amusedly.

"Whuzzurell?" she replied with a slur that meant sleep did not want to evade her just yet.

"What? Marguerite, don't gibber. You sound like Hubert."

This made the drenched girl's eyes to snap open and gape at the yapping thing which turned out to be Ginny Weasley.

"Gin? What are you doing here?" she flapped about sending drops of water to hit the other girl's face.

"Gin? Isn't that what you had some of last night?" Ginny said with a quirk of her lips and she wiped off the sheen on her cheeks.

"Zonked, my dear? Here," said a new voice, a male one, "this should sort you out." he said, offering a chipped mug of, what looked like, boiling water.

If the bucket of ice water didn't wake her up, the sight of the man surely did.

"Pro-professor Dumbledore? Is there anything wrong sir?" Hermione stammered as she sat on the bed and grabbed a fistful of blanket to cover her soaking sanctity.

The two other people in the room burst out laughing, her bemused expression doing nothing to relieve their mirth.

"Hardly an alcoholic, this girl is," said the chuckling old man handing Hermione the smoking mug which the girl accepted confusedly.

"Pity she failed to inherit you tolerance, grandfather," Ginny replied, fighting to keep a straight face. "Drink up Guertie. It will do your state a lot of good." she finished with an air of feigned stiffness and a wink.

She wasn't drunk, she was sure of that, even if she wasn't one to experience hangovers personally. She was dazed yes, confused most definitely, but certainly not drunk. She felt as if she was yanked from a strange dream to an even stranger reality.

Hermione absentmindedly took a careful sip of the hot drink and surveyed her surroundings. Here was Ginny, dressed in what appeared to be, an ensemble of muggle clothing which seemed to be in fashion in the early 1800s. It looked a lot like what those prancing Swiss milkmaids wear. Professor Dumbledore donned a loose wrinkled nightdress, which looked like his normal robes except that it fell short below his knobby knees. If Hermione was thinking straight, she would have commented on their choice of clothing, but she was more preoccupied. She presumed it was barely five in the morning as the cracks on the wooden windows only showed very little sunlight.

_Cracks on the windows? **Wooden** windows? _She thought uselessly

"What's going on? Where are my windows" she choked on the drink that tasted like tea.

"Stupid thing to ask really, Guertie. Why don't you lie-"

"Ginny! Quit calling me that!" as she cut her off.

"I'll stop calling you Guertie, if you stop calling me Ginny! It's a silly nickname, don't you think grappa? Ginny retorted even before Hermione could finish her sentiments.

"Actually, it's quite alright, Virginia. But I'll have to agree with Marguerite here. Guertie is a name fit for a spinster hag, I say!" replied the man with an amused sparkle in his blue eyes.

There were about 12 things wrong in Dumbledore's sentence-

"Wmrgprfgrappginny!" -and Hermione tried to voice them out in one sorry word.

"She's talking gibber again! How many barrels _did_ you polish off? A couple? Seventeen?

Hermione decided to ask the most intelligent (in her opinion) question that she can come out with, since obviously, she was cornered by a couple of deranged lunatics who thought it would be spiffy down some polyjuice and dress up as if it was the county fair.

"Who _are_ you people?! Where did you take me?" she shrieked flinging the half empty mug into the two impostors' general direction. It sailed a few feet away from her intended targets and landed with a plop on a nearby haystack.

_Wooden windows? Haystacks? Tasteless brown skirts? What's next, perhaps a horse? _Hermione asked herself.

"Oh no dear, no horses. Just goats and Hubert the pig." The-man-who-looks-like-Dumbledore uttered while still smiling despite Hermione's juvenile attempt to chuck the mug to his head.

"D-did I say that out loud?" she said, almost only to herself.

"Apparently, you loon. Grappa, I'll sort ickle Marguerite out. You still need to get washed." The-girl-who-looked-extraordinarily-like-Ginny said.

"I hope only minor scratches would ensue once you are done with her, child," he grinned. "I am quite smelly, no?" he added with good humor

"Quite barn-like, if you ask." she answered fondly and wrinkled her freckled nose.

The man waved a goodbye and walked out of the room. Or barn. Or warehouse. Or dungeon.

"Right, lift your arms." the redhead ordered as she pulled on the hem of Hermione's nightdress.

Hermione decided to play along. It is perhaps just another idiotic dream. But when "Ginny" started to lift the sodding clothing up her calves-

"Ginny, what are you doing?!" –she decided to end the minute-long charade.

"You will be called Guertie from now on, you silly girl." Ginny said and stuck out her tongue.

"That doesn't make sense Gi-. That doesn't make sense" she stopped as she was about to call the stranger Ginny. It seems to irk her when Hermione called her that.

"And why is that Guertie?" she replies as she plucked a comb from her apron and wrestled with Hermione's mane.

"Well, your name is Virginia, so Ginny is quite apt. But then, Guertie... See, I don't see how it resembles Hermione." she answered pointedly, wincing (so does this mean this isn't a dream?) every other syllable or so as her hair was being attacked.

"Her-mi-o-ne?" Ginny asked.

Hermione frowned. Ginny had said her friend's name in an uncommon fashion. It was slow and drawn out. It usually sounds like that if the person saying her name was to say it for the first time.

"You see, I think you've got the wrong person," Hermione starts, trying to find logic in her current situation. "I know this would sound strange but, I think. I think I've gone mad."

Hermione was babbling. She was merely prattling to buy her time to recall the events of last night. But so it seems, her nonsensical banter made the red-haired girl jump, her eyes alight, as if Hermione was some intricate potion that she has seemed to solve.

"I think I know what your problem is." Ginny says. She then peeps her head out the doorless doorframe.

"Grappa! Auntieee! Marguerite has –uh- what do you call that again grappa?" yells Ginny which makes some three or four chickens of some neighbor to cluck indignantly.

"Good God child! Taper your mouth unless you want the neighbors to clamp them for you!" shrieks a lady's voice with as much volume as that of Ginny's.

"Auntie Minerva, just get in here!" replies Ginny as she ushers in a lady with red hair, much like Ginny's, only a bit darker and streaked with gray and white.

Hermione guessed right. It was her head of house, Professor McGonagall. But is it? Or is she some impostor too? Hermione would gladly give up a years worth of Christmas money so as to wake up from this horrid, unamusing dream.

"Are you coming down with a fever dear?" the older woman asked as she presses her palm to Hermione's forehead.

"I-I don't think so…" replies the tawny-haired girl, but shivers from her still wet clothes.

"Oh my, I shouldn't have splashed you. I thought it was a good remedy for being drunk." she says concernedly.

_I am not **drunk**!_ she thinks hopelessly.

"I see you have failed to sort her out my dear." says a chortling Dumbledore as he steps into the room, all clean and decent-looking.

"She is a hopeless case, I have always assured you of that." says Ginny in a fake mournful voice but she looks at Hermione and gives her a hearty wink.

"Hmm... child, do you remember what happened to you last night?" the old man asks carefully, as if talking to a patient in a closed ward.

Hermione ponders; a thing she should have done the moment she found things were very peculiar and was called by another name. All she gets are hazy blurs of the library and someone she could not quite remember as of the-

"Malfoy!"

- - -

In the other side of town, would you believe the exact same thing is happening to one boy, er man, er boy-man? Well excepting that the young man is yet to be woken by three unusual creatures. They stand, about half of a normal man. They all have grey, rumpled skin and don the same kind of clothing: they have on their frail frames a cream-colored pillowcase embellished with what looked like a coat of arms (it was caked with so much an array of dust and soot that one could barely notice it, much less the color)

"His Highness?" inquires an elf with a high-pitched voice. It must be a girl. She is timid and her voice wavers yet loud enough, she supposes.

She gets an incoherent mumble in return.

"Is His Highness awake, sir?" squeaks the bold one, poking the bundle on the emerald-green poster bed which is the young master. This is probably the youngest house elf owing to the fact that its back was still straight and its skin was still quite firm

"Merchin! You is not to poke the young master!" the oldest one whispers and smacks Merchin's bony wrist.

The young elf grimaces and nods in apology to the sleeping form.

"Why did Mistress wants all three of us to wakes young master? Surely, one house elf would do!" says Blessie, the girl one with amber eyes the size of, what muggles call, a golf ball.

"I hears from the kitchens that the Master of the castle is to returns!" answers a very energetic Merchin.

"Master returns? Is true what he says is true Golaf?" gasps the girl elf.

"I does not know it is true. I hears it from two gossiping elves but I does not know if is true!" exclaims the old one then dissolving in fits of coughing brought by age.

"Merchin is sure! True it is! Kitchen elves is cooking a great lunch! All of the favorites of the king!" says an overtly zealous young elf while flinging his arms in to his sides to emphasize his point. Unfortunately (or fortunately since they were there 15 minutes ago trying in vain to wake the boy), this caused his thin hand to smack the young master squarely on the face.

The three elves knew better than to stick around especially since the boy was so rudely awaken by a solid hit on his pale face. After Golaf gave a Merchin a good yank on the ear, they simultaneously disapparated with a crack.

On the boy's side of things, he was in a middle of a dream wherein he was riding a wild flying beast which he recognized as the hippogriff he provoked back in his third year. They were descending to the Hogwarts grounds, making his stomach do a somersault. He gazed down to where they were about to land and saw a girl beckoning them to get down. When they landed with a light thump, the boy leaned towards the girl without getting off the magical creature and recognized her very vaguely. She reached out to touch his cheek and in a quick blink of an eye, he found himself being slapped on the cheek and as the girl's hand collides with his face, the scene changes and he remembers it to be four years ago wherein a bushy-haired Hermione Granger rushed up to him and smacked him, eyes bright and full of unyielding rage.

That's when he wakes up.

Draco Malfoy gingerly sits up on his plush bed and rubs the spot that had been hit. He was surprised to feel it to be quite raw, not painful but still annoying. He takes his time shaking the sleep off his eyes and cracks his knuckles and shakes off the stiffness in his neck.

"Alistair, darling?" says a cool female voice from the other side of his door, followed by a knock.

He stuffed a finger up his ear and pulled on it as if he had heard something not quite right. In fact he did hear something wrong.

_Alistair was it? All is there, perhaps? All this air? Well that didn't make sense._ He thought pointedly.

"Dear, will you let your mother in or will I have to barge in like an uneducated skrewt?" said the lady outside who was supposed to be Draco's mother. Her voice was stern, but not unkind and it had a tinge of humor in it.

He sighed. It was his mother after all, and everything was normal. He had a funny notion that something peculiar was happening since he wasn't in Slytherin's quarters anymore. He supposed he had come home for the holidays (and perhaps forgot that he had left Hogwarts) and he was back in his room in the Malfoy Manor. He did not, however, remember his room to be this huge. He is certain that it was forest green, yes, but he could not recall a single time wherein his room was bedecked in silver and crystal trinkets ranging from a jewel-encrusted full-length mirror on the far side of his room to a tiny bell perched on a small white cushion next to his bed.

"Coming mother," he started as he walked the length of the carpeted room towards the huge ornate door and opened it. "I see you've put more stuff in here." tilting his head to refer to the vast place that was his room.

"What did you say dear?" she asked his son inquisitively as she slipped in the room clutching a large leather pouch "Put more 'stuff' you say?" she added with quirk that meant she found something funny.

"Erm, yes mum," he paced back to the side of his bed and his mother followed suit "like that mirror for instance. You know I don't like mirrors." Draco said as if there was something bitter on his tongue.

He looked at his mother's choice of clothing today. It looks as if she were a sad muggle heroine in that tragedy –_who was that Shaking person_? _Wilbert? Willy?_ It was big and lacy and hid the fact that her mother was as thin as a wand. He wondered, _a masquerade tonight perhaps?_

"Mirrors!" laughs the woman "You say you don't like mirrors! Well Alistair, I thank you my darling for gifting your mother with a laugh to start this fine day." she exclaimed and then muttered something under her breath (which sounded like "self-absorbed" and "pretty boy") without any malice. She pinched the cheek he was rubbing only moments ago and tiptoed to kiss her son on the forehead.

Draco was quite tall. Only a daft man or a person with misplaced eyes (perhaps on his belly or his scalp or in his knickers) would make the mistake to regard Draco as puny. Especially now beside his tiny mother, he could have picked her up with very little strain.

"Come sit." say Narcissa as she herself settles on the corner of the huge bed, placing her burden on her lacey lap.

Draco obliges and sits where his mother had pat her slender hand on.

"Alistair-" the blonde starts.

"Did you just call me Alistair?" asks Draco who looks at his mother with an air of confusion and question.

"Unless we named you otherwise, then we'd have to call you _Otherwise_." his mother replies with a glint of mirth in her eyes.

Draco returned her cheap joke with a raised brow and smirk, but did not answer. He was still troubled by his mother's treatment of him. She was… playful. A word you would rarely hear being uttered in this house. She was always civil, all the 16 years of his life, she treated him respectfully. Too respectfully, for that matter, as if he were the older one of the two. But after- after _what_ happened, she became less cold and less aloof, almost as if she was seeing his son in a different light. But that change of treatment only happened that summer right before his sixth year. Right before-

"Oh, forgive me son. I need a tad practicing on my rusty humor. With your father coming back with his guests and all, I need all the sparkling dinner conversation that I have up my frilly sleeves!" exclaimed Narcissa, cutting of Draco's train of thought.

"F-father? C-coming home?" Draco rarely stuttered, well in fact he _never_ stutters. But the mention of his father made his insides knot with each other. His face was suddenly devoid of color, and the smile playing on his lips quickly vanished.

"Why yes, my darling, right before noon in fact." she answered, her eyes concerned "Is there anything wrong pet? You've gone terribly pale! Have you- hold on," Narcissa stammered replacing her look of unease with that of speculation. "Have you been in the cellars again?"

"I- what?" his body was still tense because of what his mother had told him.

"Aha! Dear, what am I going to do with you?" asked Draco's mother with a grin. "Truly a man, I say. Can't resist a new keg of cervesa, just like your brother and father." she added with a click of her tongue.

He was about to retort, denying two things that his mother claimed to be true: one, however vast their mansion was, they did not posses any wine cellar, much less one filled with Spanish beer; two, if he'd have a brother, wouldn't he at least have noticed after all these years? His sentiments were withheld due to a new voice that rang outside the hallway.

"Mother? Have you seen my boots? The ones with the gold buckle?" said a young man's voice getting louder as he approached Draco's room.

"Harry dear, I threw them down the sewers. They're horribly overused." replied an amused Narcissa while wrinkling here regal nose.

"Oh no you did not!" said a huffing Harry, his head sticking out from the doorframe of Draco's room.

"Child, those things you call boots can hardly be pertained to as footwear. You've rubbed the heels thin from use! It's time you've changed them, honestly." replied the blonde woman, matching Harry's feigned haughtiness with an air of her own hauteur.

"I resent that, _mama_. They're perfectly fine. And I am not to be fooled. You wouldn't approach the sewers with a 10-foot broomstick, _honestly_." Harry answered mimicking his "mother's" tone with amusement as he entered the room and leaned on the doorframe.

"What If I asked one of the house elves to do it?" she challenged, but obviously already defeated.

"Boots, I believe, are classified under clothing. And even if they weren't, you'd think twice before giving a pair to them. They might run along free and babble the family secrets and- oof!" Harry ended his rave as something heavy collided with his stomach. It appears that Narcissa hurtled the curious brown pouch towards Harry.

"I think, you've just burst my spleen." he said weakly as he massaged the spot just above his navel with one hand, and picked up the shoe bag with another.

"You're welcome my dear." she smiled and walked towards the raven-haired boy "But you'll be sorry when you find yourself running on gravel then suddenly," she rubbed her palms together and made a scratching noise "you'd wish you just let me toss those things away." Narcissa exclaimed sternly as she waggled a finger at Harry and pinched his nose.

"Why would I be running on gravel? I could always fly." Harry replied as he rubbed his nose. He kneeled, putting on the things that bruised his abdomen.

"Boys!" she told the air "Why didn't the gods just gift me with a pretty little girl?" she looked from Harry to Draco

"Alistair could pass as a girl." Harry grinned, looking up from his bootlaces.

Draco was interrupted from his daze as he watched his mother and Harry Potter exchange banter and regard each other as mother and son. Without thinking, he replied out of habit.

"Potter here has dating preference very much like that of a girl, mother." Draco said with mild distaste.

"Potter?" said the Narcissa and Harry in unison.

"Oh, am I supposed to call you Harry now?" he asked with a tiny tinge of apology.

"You've always called me Harry, you nut." Harry said as he stood, bootlaces tied. "And why the hell potter? Is that some new term for a girl pretending to be a boy?" he added with a small smirk.

"I suppose so! Makes them up, he does. What did you call these trinkets dear?" Narcissa cut in and motioned to the adornments Draco referred to earlier. "_Stuff_, was it?"

"Erm, yeah, mother, er, H-harry" there he goes again, stuttering like an epileptic.

His head was spinning. He must have downed a keg or two of firewhisky or he must be dreaming. He dug his nails on his arm and felt a suffice amount of pain. Whatever this is, he wasn't sure if liked it.

"Can I take a walk, mother?" he asked the blonde lady by the door.

"I suggest, you bathe first young man. Though I'm quite puzzled on why you suddenly want to stroll about the castle grounds." said a smiling Narcissa.

"Right." Draco replied feebly.

"I'll go with you. Since your mother here locked up our brooms, I've nothing to do around here." said Harry, making his voice louder than it was supposed to be.

"I have every reason to do that. Do you think the French muggles wouldn't find it odd that the Crown Princes of France and Spain are to be seen hurtling in midair with a couple of brooms? Their poor little hearts wouldn't take it. And they'd burn you, mighty right!" Narcissa said all this very fast and gulped a large amount of air as she finished.

"Crown Prince? Of Spain? _Me_?" Draco stated in disbelief standing from the side of his bed.

He felt dizzy and somehow he thought, he was able to find exactly how Longbottom felt every single day of his life. Stupid, stumbling and senseless, he thought uncharitably.

"Don't be selfish you prat. You only get France." Harry said, looking at Draco as if he was a dense wad of cotton.

"Oh, so I'm Draco, Prince of France, then?" he shouted rather frantically. To his annoyance, Harry and his mother seemed to be holding back their laughs.

"No. You're Henry Gregory Alistair De Laud Prè, Prince of France, and unfortunately, you are my son." Narcissa answers in a false tone of disappointment. Her eyes were brimming with tears of mirth.

"And you're my brother then?" Draco bellows, finally getting thoroughly infuriated by the situation.

_What in Merlin's name is she playing at? And why the hell did she drag Harry Potter into this manic charade?_ he thought furiously.

"Right after you mother marries my father, yes in essence." Harry sputters, finding immense laughter in Draco's wild antics.

"What?!" the blond boy is driven up the wall "Bloody hell, what century is this? No don't tell me, it's 1616 isn't it?" he asks rhetorically, throwing his hands in the air.

"You're a year and a century off." replies his mother rather taken aback by her son's outrage. "Dear me Alistair, you better lie down. Cervesa has ill-effects on you, darling." Narcissa says softly, drawing closer to red-faced boy.

"I better go to the library." says a confused Harry "There must be a book about this somewhere there." he trudged out the room eagerly, wanting to distance himself from his hot-headed half-brother. "Adios mi mama, mi hermano." chortled Harry from the outside, wanting to put a bit of humor into to suddenly tense scene.

"Darling? Alistair? Do you want a drink of water?" asked a concerned blonde witch.

"Where is he going?" inquired Draco. His voice was calmer. He rationed, the only thing he would get screaming at Potter and his mother was a sore throat.

"The library, dear. To sort you out." replied the Draco's mother with her back turned to him as she rummaged through the mahogany drawers for a wash cloth.

Library. He seemed to recall being at a library the night before. Was it in this place's library perhaps? He was pretty sure it was in Hogwarts…

Narcissa cursed under her breath as an open cabinet door hit her head as she stood up.

"For heaven's sake!" she exclaims, catching herself and recalling that she need not delve in drawers for wash cloths. She was the queen of France for crying out loud!

"Mother, I believe we have house elves here, don't we?" asks Draco helpfully, sliding into the blankets. He felt quite tired and quite shaky. He needed a clear mind to sort the confusing reality that is the present.

"Yes, yes boy I was getting to that!" Narcissa snaps, berating herself for not thinking of it herself. "Now what are their names? We have about a dozen dozens, don't we?"

"Right." he played along distractedly, recalling the happenings of yesterday.

Library, library. Was it the Restricted Section? If this was the workings of Dark Magic, why wasn't he dead yet?

_Oh right, I'm worse off than dead. I'm insane._ he thought wistfully.

No, he didn't remember getting in that roped area, much less asking a teacher for a permissions slip. He did however recall…

Hippogriff. Flying. _Granger_. **_Smack_**

His eyes were wide with realization, and he hit himself for being so slow to remember.

"Mother?" he asks uncertainly.

His mother was busy with herself, shrieking random names in the air.

"Trinket?! Blimpy?! Oh, Merlin's beard! How many times should I guess? Alistair, remember any of the house elves, dear?" she looks at her son, unaware that he had asked a question first.

"I- no. I don't." he grows impatient and wants to ask his mother now but she is preoccupied by a petty thing so Draco assumed he'd have to help her before she could do the same to him. "Lotty? Mildred? Dobby?" he started finding the task completely amusing.

"Rancher! Prancer! Oh, good God Rudolph!?" the older witch screeches.

"Crabbe! Goyle! Vincent! Gregory!" Draco was shouting at random, immensely amused. "Blaise! Millicent! Oh I say, Pansy!"

At the last name, they hear a sharp crack and a rather pudgy girl elf appears.

"You calls, young Master?" squeaks Pansy the house elf. She eyes Draco inquisitively since he was now rolling on the bed in fits of laughter.

"You-your n-name is P-P-Pansy!" he giggles. Aside from stuttering, giggling is another thing he does not do. But then there is a first time for everything. Especially when it involves the name of a certain pug-faced girl and household help.

"Y-Yes, Master? Um, Mistress?" she turns her attention to the very confused Narcissa, her arm supporting her weight as she leans on one of the open drawers.

"Well, fetch me a wash cloth and a bowl of water. Lukewarm would do. Go on, don't gape. Pansy it is?" orders the blonde and is answered by an equally bewildered house elf by curtsying and disappearing with another crack.

"Oh wait! Pansy?" she asks the air while Draco tries to compose himself but as his mother utters the house elf's name, he dissolves back into unmanly sniggers.

"Quit it boy! I don't even see what's funny! Oh yes, there you are." she says as Pansy appears yet again making Draco bury his face onto a pillow to muffle his cackles.

"Elf, look for the other young Master, yes the _sane_ one, the one with glasses and dark hair. Tell him to get inside the potions lab and look for a numbing solution, the ones used to tame a Hyenasaul (which is fundamentally a mesh of your basic laughing hyena and sea lion and they are very odd creatures since their deaths are caused only by themselves. Making them laugh spells their demise since these furry water animals would laugh and sink until they are bereft of any air to breathe thus killing them, but then this pretty useless and Narcissa need to get her point across). Look for him in the library, probably in the Healing and Cure Section." she finishes and sends of the obedient elf to do her bidding.

With the mention of the library, Draco is able to revert back to what he was ought to do 52 laughs ago.

"So I see you don't need that numbing solution my dear?" the mildly irritated blonde asks.

"I guess not. What where you going to do? Rub it on my stomach?" he was quite familiar with Hyenasauls. Their drool and blubber are quite useful potion ingredients.

"No, that only works for the animals. I was to throw it down you throat, love." she answers, her smile morphing into a sly grin.

"But those things are toxic! They'd have killed me in a snap." Draco reasons, his voice sounding a pitch higher.

"That was the plan, darling." Narcissa was laughing at this point.

"Glad that I dealt with the problem myself then." he says smirking. "Mother, I have a question." he needed to get to the bottom of this. And he knew that he had to start somewhere.

"You just asked one, dear, but I'll be kind and grant you another one." she replies, still thoroughly amused with herself.

Sparkling dinner conversation was out of the question then, Draco thought idly. He ignores her grin, and asks.

"Mother, do you know anyone by the name of Hermione? Hermione Granger?" he starts to ask, hoping this was a sensible question in this world.

"Hermione Granger? Well no dear." she answers pursing her lips and Draco's hopes suddenly plummet. "But I do know of a Hermione, a daughter of a good friend, you see."

His relief comes as swiftly as his disappointment disappears.

"Well, can I meet her perhaps?" says the blond boy, sounding very stupid to himself.

"I don't see why you're so eager, but you are in luck if you really do want to see this Hermione." she says to his son.

"Thanks mum, so when do I see her?"

Draco heaves a sigh of relief. He needed to talk to her. She was after all the last person he very distinctly remembers and he thought, he had no other shot.

"Later today dear. This friend, see, she's coming to the-" Narcissa answers but is cut by an agitated Draco.

"Ah yes." he says quickly, knowing exactly what was happening later on. "What time is it?" he asks looking around for a clock.

"Nearly six." answers his mother, pointing to a highly wrought grandfather clock near the mirror.

"Six?! Six in the bleeding morning? What'd you wake me for then?" asks an incredulous Draco.

"Well as you know, today is a Friday, you and Harry always have your childish little horse riding thing every week. Remember?" she says his mother as she pushes back the drawers she hastily pulled out earlier.

"Oh yeah, almost forgot that." he replies, pretending to comprehend. "So I'll be washing up now, then?" he adds looking at his mother.

"Best idea you've had all morning, my dear!" briskly ambling towards the door after putting everything back into place. "You know where to go. And don't be late this time. It's at 7:30, not 10:00 as you have so wrongly told that poor old house elf last week just so she won't wake you up till 9. Had to beat her toes raw for that!" she reprimands him strongly.

"I was –dreaming?" he defends himself from an act he could not even remember doing and smiles innocently.

"Always the charmer, you are." Narcissa quirks her lips exits the room and shuts the door with soft thud.

**A/N: **Lalala, more trouble in paradise. R&R pleasie : )


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